


Fragility

by hydratedbarnes



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Din Djarin Removes the Helmet, Dirty Talk, Dirty Thoughts, F/M, Naive Reader, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Size Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-17 13:14:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28600515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hydratedbarnes/pseuds/hydratedbarnes
Summary: The Mandalorian has morals, he's good, but when it comes to you, the babysitter he hired to watch the Child, it seems that they disappear within the filthy thoughts that live in his head.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Reader
Comments: 11
Kudos: 187





	1. Chapter 1

Uncharted, uncharacteristically quiet, Din watches as the ramp lowers open and he gets a glimpse of the empty hull. Silent but aware, he knows of your sleeping figure in the cot—most likely cuddled agaisnt Grogu.

However, he’s mistaken when he sees you laid across the floor, splayed wide as your face comes into view with every step. There, a soft breath leaves your mouth, while your chest heaves up and down. Though, the sounds of the ramp closing seemed to pull you awake as you start stirring in your sleep.

And with every movement, the frail tunic you wore rode up every inch of your bare skin. Thankful for the light breeze of the planet, it’s hot and warm, a perfect recipe as you practically wore nothing underneath the fragile clothing.

He thanks his Creed for the helmet, blocking out the slight exhale as he catches a glimpse of your underwear bare to him. Your ass plump and smooth, he pauses in his step as he eyes you down.

He knows it’s wrong, you’re a frail, innocent little thing he found on Nevarro, who offered your assistance to the child. Yet, here he was, ogling you like a man in heat who thinks with the cock between his legs.

He’s embarrassed, sure, but that doesn’t shy away from the way you make him feel—unknowingly, at that—and it worsens every time you smile kindly at him or speak so gently.

Surely, his morals would care, but right now? Maker; the way you moan, groan away as you prop yourself up on elbows while the tunic falls carelessly off your shoulders. _Fuck_. And when you peer up at him, wide eyed and all with a smile on your face as you carefully speak.

“ _Din?_ Is that you? Are you home?”

He’s quick to answer, not wanting to scare you away. Especially in the dark of the night where you can barely see. He’s the exception with the helmet. If only you could see yourself in his eyes. “I’m here. How’s the baby?”

“He’s been good today. Took a bath, but he’s been very messy with the bubbles.” He watches as your lips curve in a knowing smile, knowing that your thoughts are going back to the day spent and finding comfort in them. But they fell as your head peered up in attempt to look for his face, or helmet in this matter. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

And Din swears he can almost hear the break in your voice, cracking your sentence in worry that he did hurt himself. Though, he’s quick to reassure that he isn’t as he kneels on the floor in front of you. Cold and worn gloves hand wrapped around tiny ankles, you squeal slightly before realizing Grogu was sleeping.

“Din, what’re you doing?”

He tugged slightly on your ankles, pulling you the slightest closer to him and he gets a view of your parted legs—your crotch bare to him even under the dark night—he thanks his visor for that. “Do you trust me, _cya’rika_?”

“Y-Yes, I do, Din.”

He hummed, the sound raspy and modulated. Still, it made the butterflies in your tummy flutter with such intensity that you breathing soon became heavy.

You waited for his next set of actions. With him pulling you every close by the ankle, the cold steel floor makes your ass ache with the cold just as your tunic rides up until it sat comfortably around your waist. Your eyes become wide, confused as what your—well, technically employer, right? But Din preferred that you called him a friend, your partner.

Surely, that was him to you right? In all honesty, you did have the slightest crush on the Mandalorian, though never acting on it, well, no showing your feeling much greatly, other than sweeter words and gentle caresses, that was all to it.

Up until now, you never knew of how the Mandalorian felt. Surely, he didn’t feel the same about a girl like you. Barely even knowing how to fight, you were pretty much useless with the exception of taking care of Grogu.

Yet now, here you were.

Din’s cold gloves around your ankles, there was a long pause in the air that waved some sort of tension as you waited for his next set of moves. And when you felt the lack of leather burning your skin and heard the sound of velcro latch, your senses took it that he was undressing his hands.

Yet, you stayed quiet. Obedient. Unsure to what he was planning, you had no fear he would hurt you. Sure, he could technically snap your neck in a simple twist of his hands, and _yeah_ , he _could_ kill you and make it look like an accident. But that didn’t waver the feelings that bubbled up every time he had a lingering hand on your back or when he called you _cya’rika._

Now, what once was silence, there was a hiss from his helmet and your eyes became wide as you realized what he was doing. “Din? What’re you—”

“Can you make me a promise and stay quiet for me, little one?” You felt the reassuring hand on your cheek and Maker, it felt weird. His fingers were bare and warm, a contrast to his gold leather gloves, these were comforting, inviting. And the way he spoke to you, gentle and sweet, you gave him your answer with a nod. “ _Good girl._ ”

Just like that. A switch was lifted as he pushed you down against the durasteel floor of the hull, his movements harsh and rough as he kept a hand over the length of your neck. While the pressure was slight, you were still able to breathe. And in the dark of the night, Din moved like he could see every detail of his ship. His knees nudging your legs open, the air that seemed warmed all felt too cold as it hit your clothed core.

He pushed your legs up, your knees pressed against your chest as he kneeled between you. You were exposed to him, it was a feeling nothing like before. And he didn’t even bother warning you of his next moves as he pressed his face against your panty clad cunt. _Inhaling_ deeply, Maker, the way his nose nudged against your clit has you bucking your hips up in a dulled pleasure.

“Oh, Maker...” You swear that you felt him smile against you. However, that seemed short lived as he pulled away only to dive back in with an open mouth as he kissed your clint through the frail fabric of your underwear.

Wet— _sopping wet_ as he kissed, licked, even nipped slightly at your swollen bud. And as it felt fuckinh fantastic, you begged yourself to keep in together as to not wake Grogu. But you couldn’t as a ragged moan left your mouth, high and mighty that it caught Din’s attention. He lifted his head up, and despite in the dark, you could tell he probably had a raised brow focused on you.

“Din, please.”

He kissed your thigh, soft stubble tickling every sensitive spot. “Just stay quiet, little one. And fight me when it gets too much. I mean it. Yell if you have to. This is in your hands.” You would nod at this demand, if only he could see you, so instead, you answer with the faintest whisper of a yes.

Then, he’s pulling away, for a moment you think he’s changed his mind and you’re left with an ache between your legs. But he returns with a grip tighter than steel as he handles you to lay on your stomach. His strength uncharted and unhinged, he pushes a hand on the tail of your back to push you ever close to cold floor while your hips are pulled up high in the air.

He tugs once, then the sopping wet underwear is peeled off your body and you can hear him sniff, _inhale hard_ as a groan erupts the hull. “Fuckin’ Maker, princess. You’re gonna be the death of me.”

You simply giggled, your sound muffled against the steel floor yet it rung louder than any noise in the ship. But then you huff, feeling frustrated as your lover takes his precious time. He tugs, not on the sheer tunic you were slipping out of but on the ends of your hair. _Fuck, ouch!_

He buried his face deep in the locks of your hair, moaned as he ground his hips against yours, just enough that you could feel every inch of his staring cock behind tight pants. Maker, he felt rock hard, like he was near to bursting if he didn’t get some resolution. “Din, just... Please.”

There on the tip of his tongue, sat a very wanted curse, telling you to keep your begging down or he’ll fuck you till you couldn’t speak. Then again, he was going to do that regardless, so he kept quiet.

Though, it was just enough to have his focus return on tugging his pants down, just so he could free himself from the confines. He knew you were soaked, there was no doubt in that as he went to tease your slit for the slight second, there was no contradiction to his prediction.

Wet, _so fucking wet_ , your own arousal was _oozing_ out of you like you were a breaking damn, slipping down to your inner thighs as he nudged agaisnt you. It didn’t take him long, not really at all as he didn’t even bother warning you that he had pushed in one single thrust.

And so, just like that, this man, full of beskar armour, pounds of muscle that would challenge the metal he wore, pushed and full inside of your small body.

Sure, he fucking felt like he was going to fuck you open, but Maker, if it wasn’t worth it the moment he start pulling and pushing in. Like grace and gravity was on his side, he moved with such ingenuity, such lack of care for your own pleasure except for his. It was breathtaking, physically and metaphorically as every time your mouth parted and you waited for a gutted moan to fall; you were simply met with a gasping nose of your own lack of air.

You felt him. Every thick, throbbing, and inching bit of him deep inside the depths of your cunt. It was heavenly. Star seeking as he was able to hit every part of you that had you bucking up back against him.

You were a _whore_.

Surely, anyone who would’ve had the balls to walk in the Crest, anyone who watched you, your face, your body, the noises and panting—now surely, there was not doubt you were a whore who couldn’t speak without using her cunt.

While in all honesty, it looked like that, it felt like that, you accepted the fact that this is all you would’ve been. And as he fucked those thoughts out of your head, his hand mindlessly slipping between your body as he— _there_. He fingered your clit, little immediate circles, he groaned in your ear as he felt you grip him like vice. Knowing that your soft little voice would whimper out in a helpless sound as he touched you like he’s done many times before.

“Fuck, oh - F - fucking...” The man above you barely even finish his sentence, too caught up in reeling of you, he let another unfiltered whine rip through the unwavering silence of the room. “My little girl feels too good, doesn’t she?”

You can’t seem to answer, fuck, _why can’t you?_ You want to tell him yes, that every inch of you was made for him. Just like this, all spread out, on the floor with your cunt all for use.

You should be ashamed, your mother taught you better than to whore yourself out. To be the kind that she’s despises the most.

Instead, you moaned out his name. A cry, a babble. All out of desperation as Din fucks into you. You were near, that was a feat that you couldn’t hide from the Mandalorian as he railed you. And as you clawed at the steel floor, gasps emitting deep from your throat, you moan a small _oh my goodness_ as you gripped the man on top of you like vice.

You heard him loud and clear in your ear, your name a desperate cry as his own movements came to a halt—his own orgasm nears, all thanks to you as a silent yell parted your mouth in desperation.

The euphoria itself made you see stars. No man, no woman, for that matter made you feel this. It was odd but the good kind of odd that you craved once you had gotten a taste of it. Now this? Maker, you were going to savour every bit of it.

As his hips stuttered to a stop and you felt him contract inside of you, there was a warm feeling that oozed inside and leaked from your legs. Then it hit you that he had finished... _inside_. Deep inside of your fucking cunt, so much of it filling inside, that it had started to leak from the sides unable to contain all of his finish.

You attempted to push him away, the girth of him causing you to clench around him like vice and it strained your insides as your toes curled. “Mmh, it’s— fuck, too much, Din. Ah—!” Then it hits you, your second orgasm washes over with no warnings and your body convulses with need, grips him once again and Din groans.

“Fuck, did—Did _you just...?_ ” He wished he could see your face, only then, he would see your wide eyes as your face contorted in pleasure; in another orgasm as he stilled inside of you. But instead, you answered with a embarrassed whine and he hushed you with a hand on your cheek. “Oh, _my sweet girl._ ”

He took a moment to pull away, slipping out with such ease due to your slick and his, he hushes you once again after you make a noise of displeasure. A name in a foreign language, one of his native tongue, _sheerika? shareka?_ He says it again, such ease as it whispers through your ear.

With his helmet gone, though in the dark, he nuzzles his nose against your hair and sighs. There’s a loud moment of pause that lingers, some tension in his shoulders with the way his arm drapes over your waist. You wait for him to speak, till then you harmonize your breathe with him.

“I lost the quarry.”

Oh. _Oh shit._ That’s why he had came home earlier than he was intended to be. A day early when he wa schedule for the night later. That’s why he had fucked you relentlessly. He needed the release. His pent up anger inside of you.

You hummed against his chest and sighed. There was more to his words, you knew it, and so you kept quiet until he was finished.

“I was so close,” he says, a mumble against your skin as he moved his face to muzzle himself into your neck. “Someone got him before me. Someone much better. Someone with skills that I lack of.”

_Oh, there it is._ The very thing that lead him to your comfort. The very thing that made a man, full of muscle that challenged the beskar he wore, crumble into a ball of insecurity.

Din was afraid that he lacked the skills to be a hunter. The best of the best. No quarry would prove that to you. You knew much more to your eyes.

So as you shook your head and ponder on the thought, how could such a man like Din, a man who had every power to ravage you, to ruin you, to shoot blaster like he uses a fork, feel so small at such a feat.

“Don’t say that, Din. You’re a great fighter and hunter.” You feel his groan against your skin, almost as if he were making nose in contradiction. But you weren’t going to let him down. “I mean it.” You wish you see him when you looked up, yet you were only met with darkness.

He pulled away just as the same, assuming that he had done the very gesture as you felt his warm hands cup your face gently as you were made of every porcelain bowl.

“In fact,” you held your tongue, the chance of your request a small success, yet you spoke. “I would like you to teach me how to fight.”


	2. Shake it Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Din teaches our Sweet Girl how to use a blaster for the very first time, needless to say, distractions occur.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://starsvck.tumblr.com

The sun on this planet creates beautiful colours. The sun rises with the east, paints a generous pinch of pinks and purples across the sky, and much to Din’s demise, it distracts you.

With a look of awe, you’re captivated by the view. Eyes wide with innocence while your lips smiled with beauty. The baby cooed in your hands and if it weren’t for the little rascal, Din wouldn’t have knocked himself out of his own trance at looking at you.

Though, could you blame him?

If such creature such as you entered in his life, surely, anyone else would be just as captivated by your ever glowing beauty.

Then again, he had met you nearly six months ago now. Six months of living with you. Nearly five days ago of having just fucked you senseless. Sure, it had been out of pure frustration, his own insecurities bunched up inside of that beskar that claimed to protect him.

But now that he had even spent the night—helmetless—beside you, your words of reassurance echoed like music in his ear.

_Well, fuck._

He promised those underlying feelings were gonna go away. They had too. After all, six months ago, the two of you were merely colleagues, protecting the baby as your one job.

Well, now, he’s not entirely sure as he watched you giggle in sync with his son.

It was a pretty domesticated picture if he’s being honest. Though, he’s not going that far into the picture as he watched you rock the child back and forth.

Somewhere deep in his thoughts, he can’t hear you but he sure can see the way your lips move in a way that he’s sure you’re singing the child a song. Singing him to sleep just before the sunrises, knowing that he had woken up too early on accident.

He lets you have this moment.

Din knows that he’s had his many times before you came. While they may not had been songs or melodic lullabies sung by you, they were homemade stories brought up by his own lack of imagination. That seemed enough as it had soothed the child to sleep many times.

He thinks of the times you had done that.

The many times he had caught you, right in the middle of a song of your choice—either it be quirky, playful, and solemn, the man in beskar never failed to stop mid in his steps to listen.

Till then, he’ll try to sneak an ear at night.

His focus is on what he’s promised you after you asked that night. _I want you to teach me._ After he had spoken with silence, a gentle kiss to your nose before he hummed an indefinite answer, you had fallen asleep.

Just the morning before, the one before this one, he had reassured you that your request was not forgotten.

Eventually leading you here.

You had already returned the child back into his pram and into the Crest, all sound asleep and at peace before you returned with a hop to your footing. He smiles under his beskar and he thanked his Creed for that.

“Ready?” He asked, suddenly hyper aware of the blaster that sat still in his holster. And when you nodded eagerly, a ginger smile lining your lips, he took those two first steps towards you.

He pulled the weapon from his holster, quicker than light, it’s in your vision before you can even blink. Though, as you watched him fondle the metal thing, your eyes focused on the way his gloved fingers traced along the details of the handle.

Din noticed your distracted state and sighed. “Did you get it?” He tried, tilted his head the slightest and watched as your eyes go wide when they peered up at him. He smiles under the beskar helmet— _cute_.

“Uhhhh...” Your lips quirked. “Errrr... yes?” Yeah, there’s no point of feigning your attention with a damn Mandalorian. Especially with Din. So as your shoulders sagged, you shook your head and sighed. “Yeah, _no_ , I didn’t.”

The man hummed, already aware of your distracted mood and he stepped even closer to you. The cold metal of his beskar just barely inches away from your exposed arms.

“That’s fine. Just pay attention next time. I’m not repeating this.” You nodded at his words, afraid that if you did mess up, Din’s patience will break and his time for you will fail. You swallowed down hard and perked your head up as he moved behind you.

“ _Good girl._ ”

You flushed at the praise, tendrils of hair falling to frame your face and you’re thankful as it hid the smile that lined your lips.

Din brings the blaster once more in front of you. A finger pressed against the side of the weapon and your eyes follow along as he speaks. “Here’s the power meter. Just basically tells you the intensity of the blast whether you switch the settings to stun or not.”

Then he’s dragging a thumb over the handle as he flips the weapon into the palm of his hands. “You see this?” You nod. “That’s the stun setting switch. Just press and you’ve got it set on stun.”

You watch him press the switch, a click rumbles through the air as you nod with your full attention.

“I prefer that you never touch that. Keep it to its original settings and you’ll be fine.” Din takes another step forward, inching towards you one last time before he feels your ass touch his crotch.

Your eyes widened. Maker, what the fuck is going on.

“Give me your hand.” Unconsciously, you reached your hand out and you felt his gloved fingers touch your own. “Usually people use one hand but since you’re a beginner, you’ll use two for more accuracy.”

Din raised another hand and you felt his own touch the elbow of your left, pushing it up as he helped you get into position. You bit your lip with every spark of his touch. It had felt electrifying. That this, _these_ simple little gestures got your breath shaky and uneven.

He positioned your hands over the handle of the blaster, the grip on the metal helping you hold it with ease as your palms were wet with sweat.

“Be careful of the cooling module. Don’t _ever_ touch that, got it?” You nodded at him and he tilted his head the same in response. “I want you to say it, sweet girl. Understand?”

“I understand.”

His beskar touched your neck. Oh, fuck, that felt good. It felt cold, sure, but it made what was between your legs warm and slick.

“ _Good_.”

Then he’s simply back to caging your body as he reached over your tiny frame, adjusting the way your fingers held the trigger and the handle.

There was a few moments of unspoke silence as Din towered over your shoulders and his fingers made work of your own until he sighed and pulled away. Your brows furrowed but then he returned to touch your hands again and that’s when you felt it.

Bare fingers touching your own.

Warm, tanned, thick digits that glided over your own slender ones, he jut your hand up in position and hummed. A sign of approval you hoped.

“Now shoot.”

You paused in place and your hands fell. You turned to him, and caught his visor over your shoulder. You swallowed down your fears and shook your head. Did he really think you could shoot? Let alone aim for shit? “Wait, no. I can’t do that yet, Din.”

But he really seemed keen on that sole idea alone as his hands found your arms again and pushed them back up.

“Yes, _you can_ and you will.” He tilted your chin back to where your gun was aimed in front of your. Surely, he could hear the way your breath quickened. And surely he understood that, in fact, you couldn’t do this and you were maybe not up for this task itself.

“Just focus.”

You huffed and attempted doing what he demanded you to do and focus on... well, honestly? You didn’t know what you could’ve focused on. There were the sand stuck in your shoes, small little pebbles enabling you a little to walk properly. Or perhaps the beautiful sunrise that was once a painting of blues and pinks, turned into a blinding bright yellow.

Okay, well, there were many things you could focus on. But you simply just couldn’t with the way Din held on to your arm and how close he was pressed up against you.

In short notice, he was simply the biggest distraction there was.

“Din,” it was pathetic how your voice broke, though, surely it was too late to fake calmness. “I can’t. I really can’t. I’m—”

_Oh_.

Then he’s got a thick thigh settled between your legs. Layers from your tunic and underwear, bunched up against each other, yet you felt the bit of friction as he ground you against him.

Well, that surely got your attention.

Good thinking, you wanted to say. Though, you only answered the Mandalorian with a bitchy whine that made him laugh under the beskar. You huffed at his reaction when you composed yourself, only realizing after that this was his way of telling to you continue of what he had asked you.

“Shake it off.”

Yeah, yeah. Okay, you can do that. You _have to_ do that. And quickly as you were practically grinding against his thigh while in broad daylight. While to be fair it was in the middle of nowhere, you weren’t gonna take the same chance Din was.

“Ready?”

A small nod before your eyes focused into the small scope of the blaster. You found everything as the rock feet away from you become zoomed into your view. Everything in that moment quiet down. Your breathing heavy and even at large but you kept it at bay as you put every inch of your energy into this single shot.

But Din’s wandering hand rocked you away. A big splayed hand over the course of your belly, he pushed with pressure and he leaned in. “Shoot and I’ll fuck you here and then.”

And then just like that— _pang!_ You shot it.

Wait, holy shit. You actually shot at it. Right there. Dead centre and your mouth gaped at the sight. “Did you see that?! Holy shit!” You turned to Din with a smile that lined your lips, beautiful and genuine content written all over your face as you pointed. “I did it!”

The Mandalorian smiled under his beskar. Finding amusement in the way you wiggled against his thigh, completely unaware of the way you moved against him.

But with that simple brush of the curve of your ass against his crotch, he stilled you against him with a hand on both of your love handles.

He did make a promise, didn’t?

And as a Mandalorian, he always keeps them.

As he leaned close, his beskar cold against the temple of your head, he felt you shudder under his touch. “ _Gar did pirusti, ner kar'taylir darasuum._ ”

You honestly had no clue what had fell like honey from his tongue but you assumed that it were merely his mother language of Mando’a. A saying of some sort that, hopefully, was a praise.

And while you were greatly aware that Din spoke nothing but sweetness, he made sure to stick through with what he had said just mere seconds prior to your finger pulling the trigger.

_Shoot and I’ll fuck you here and then._

Maker, you really needed to ease yourself down on these distasteful thoughts. Yeah, you could blame the man in metal behind you for getting you high of the adrenaline, but then again, you were the one who asked him the night prior.

You held onto his wrist like some handles, afraid that if you didn’t, you may have fallen face first in the coarse sand. “Din?”

Silence spoke at your call. The modulator from his beskar entered the unwavering quietness out in the open. Maybe he’s changed his mind. Maybe he’s fed up with attempting to teach you that he’s lost his own libido in the process.

Another moment passes before he finally speaks. “You tell me if it’s too much, got it?” His hands gripped your hips tight, a measure of how hard he was containing himself from ravaging you as he spoke.

“I understand.”

The sweetness in your voice ever made the turmoil in his stomach growl. And soon, he’s ripping off the cape from the home of his back as to lay it flat on the sandy floor.

It’s messy, sure, though thats the least of his concern the moment he’s got you on all fours with nature. His eyes grazing every accentuated curve of your hips, your back, and finally, your ass in this wretched position.

There’s a slight tremble in the way your lips move as Din’s calloused hands knead your ass. In a way, this had felt like the night before... Your very first time with him, yet only you’re in the open as his fingers hooked under your panties and tugged them free without care.

And just like that, you were fully bare to him out in the open. You let it happen. Let it takes it course as the Mandalorian slips a thick finger between your legs and between your slit, that you actually felt him nudge it against your clit.

“Oh, Din...” You whined him name ever so pathetically, actually thinking he would listen to your calls. Though, you’re entirely sure he’s too caught up in himself to actually notice of your flushed features.

He seemed to prove that idea wrong as he growled your name—loud and clear out in the open. Your mind wanders off into the distance of how his face must be convulsed in fascination or perhaps pure pleasure.

You nearly had a glimpse of it. _Nearly_. If you count him removing his helmet in the dark as one of them. Then again, you guess you’ve had many close encounters with a helmetless Din with the way he’s recently acted towards you—unhinged and almost as if he stopped trying to hide it away from you.

But he’s pushing into you like some man unwarranted, no morals as he fills you up so beautifully. A tight fit, sure, but that never stopped him the first time. And as he rutted against you, rocked you back against him with a hand on your lovehandles, you buried your moans with the tip of your finger between your nails.

“Oh, _my sweet girl._ ” Now, how could you compete with that? When his words are just as soft as the morning sky, they contrast his actions when he ravages you in times like these.

He’s an enigma. A question that has you pondering on most nights when you sleep next to him in his cot. His head, helmetless most of the time, buried in the crook of your neck as he succumbs to his slumber. You think then and there how much this man affects your livelihood and how far he’s willing to go for you.

In your head and in your heart, you _know_. You know your limit but there isn’t one when it comes to him. Especially when he makes you feel _this_ good. Physically and emotionally when he calls you sweet girl or unwarranted nicknames in Mando’a.

You let him know when you call his name in a desperate moan. One that begs him to let you finish. Your eyes shut closed as he snakes a large calloused hand over the width of your neck. Just like that, he _squeezes_.

You gasp his name like a prayer, you attempt to claw at the hand that keeps you restrained. Maker knows that Din knew your limits, he’s done this before... the night where he had fucked you first time, he had the very same hand around your skin.

It felt good to say the least. You’ve never had any man touch you like that. Sure, there were _boys_ who touched you. But never in the way that Din could.

With him, he made your toes curl, legs shake, and voice hoarse in the way those little boys could _never_ do.

And as your orgasm nears, he can feel the way you practically squeezing him in return. He lets you know that was a good thing when you feel his beskar touch your cheeks when he had pulled you up to his chest—rocked you in sync as his skin met yours with harsh thrusts.

“That’s it, _cyar’ika_.” You can hear the uneasiness in his voice. Its horse and filtered, it leaves an earful and it makes your groan at the sound. But its the most you can have. He won’t take the risk or removing, not like this where he's out in the open. “I know, I know.”

He took a moment, one that was short before he spoke again with a loud groan. “Me too, mesh’la.” His hand left your neck as to grip the hair on your head, a gentle pull but it was enough to throw your head back against his shoulder where your eyes catch his visor. 

It hits you before you can even tell him.

Its quick as your body shakes. You legs practically tremble with euphoria while a muffled moan echoes into the palm of Din’s hand. It’s all too fast as you practically see white. And in the faint background of your orgasm, you hear Din moan and still against you like a man in statue.

It feels like a dream as he holds you just like that, arms wrapped around your small body like vice, almost as if the idea of you pulling away scares the bounty hunter. You smile as you release a breath, your eyes heavy when Din takes the courage to loosen his hold.

And when you fall on to his cape, coarse sand that snaked its way on the surface, your body seeks for some kind of comfort on the ground. 

While the man who just fucked you like it was his last, towered over you, your eyes barely even open as you catch his silhouette against the sun. You ache to reach out to him, though, it had seemed that he had read your thoughts and reached out a hand of his own that touched your cheek.

That’s the very last thing you feel, _see_ , before it goes dark.

—

You feel something soft touch your cheek when you wake. It’s cold but not enough that it causes your feet to curl against your chest like you used to before.

But you’re feeling hair...soft patches of unruly curly hair against your cheek, your chin, and your nose.

You take a breath in and you smell the reminisce of the sun and something warm. Like _Din_.

Oh.

It’s _him_.

He must’ve taken you back to the cot to let you nap. Himself alone as you felt a hand over the course of your own, wrapped like vice as you’re pulled to such proximity against him.

You move the slightest, wanting to relieve yourself in the fresher. But as your body aches with every movement, it stirs Din back to reality and he groans against your neck.

“Stay.” Is all he says before he hums back. But you’re smiling already as you place a hand to his warm cheek, thinking of how, with the lights on, his skin _must be_ a pinch red from sleeping against you.

You let a small giggle as he nuzzles against your palm. “I need to pee, Din. I’m sure you don’t want me doing that here.”

He makes a noise of annoyance before he finally lets go, his arm back to his side and his face gone from your neck. You hear him mumble something incoherent as you sit up. Though, you’re sure that it’s just him complaining before you hear him plop back against the bed.

“I’ll be back, sleepy head.” You tug on the hand that’s intertwined with yours, telling him that you needed to go. When he let go, you smiled before crawling out of the cot.

You’re back before you know it but he’s gone from the cot. Nothing but folded blankets occupy the space where you and Din once were—fast asleep and in peace.

Now there’s nothing but fabric.

You frown and tug on the shirt you wore, only realizing that it was _his_. Yet, he was no where in sight.

Luckily, the baby was still fast asleep in his pram. The early mornings he had been woken up to still catching up to him in slumber. While you? You make your way up to the cockpit, finding the man you’ve expected to be in your bed, sitting by his chair.

“Din?”

He doesn’t respond. He only flicks the buttons and switches on the control board. It makes you frown but you don’t stop to call his name again.

“Are you alright?”

_He should be._ A minute ago, he was spending his sleep beside you. A moment of peace, serenity. It felt nice to reel in that, even if it were temporary. But you never expected it to be gone so soon.

“Did I do something wrong?”

Nothing.

“I’m sorry if I left you alone.”

Still silence.

You frowned at his lack of answer and tears grew fast in your eyes. But you weren’t going to cry in front of him. _Not like this._ Not when you had no clue what you did wrong or if it was you at all.

_Asshole._

So, you just had to let yourself sit this one out. As you return back to the hull, finding the baby wide awake in his pram looking at you with those inky black eyes, he cooed as if calling your name.

You didn’t hesitate to rush over to the child and pick him up. There was a sway in your step as you spoke to him cheerfully, almost as if the pain that Din caused never even existed.

You smiled down at the little green baby. “You look hungry, my love. Does your little tummy want something to eat?”

The way his ear fell down in response worried you. There was a moment before you realized that his eyes flooded with tears and soon he was crying. His mouth parted as he let out a wail and you swayed him even more in response to cool him down.

You frowned, tears of your own forming out of pure frustration. “That makes the two of us, buddy.” You pressed your forehead against his own and sighed.

“It’ll be alright, sweet thing.” That was a reassurance, one that you weren’t sure if it were for the child or for you. Even then, with the way Din acted, you weren’t sure that was the cause.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mesh’la — Beautiful
> 
> Cyar’ika — Sweetheart or beloved
> 
> Gar did pirusti, ner kar'taylir darasuum — You did well, my love.


	3. Stubborn Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After nearly a week, Din and Sweet Girl talk out their emotions which leads to confessions

He’s a stupid man.

Anyone with a working eye could see that.

Maker knows, he knew damn well the idiocy he claimed in his own head. Yet, after making a calculated and snap decision while you were in the fresher, his eyes closed but not in slumber, he had decided that it wasn’t enough.

That he wasn’t enough.

Again, stupid might as well be his middle name after that decision. Even more so when he returned back to the cockpit to feign a distraction and he had heard your padded steps against the metal floor.

He knew you would be nothing but here in his shirt. And somehow, with all the willpower he could muster, didn’t look nor give you any sign of attention.

Not a single jolt of his helmet to let you know that you were listening. Nope. He answers you with flicks of his fingers against red switches and poking digits at flowing buttons. Nothing a single peep.

Not even when he heard the sniffle that was ever so faint that if he hadn’t worn the helmet, he wouldn’t have heard it on your way out.

He’s a stupid man, that anyone can agree with.

And as he returns to his ship with the same thoughts of you intact, the silence worries him at this time of the day.

He promised he would’ve been back by now. He kept that promise amongst other things. Sex. Gifts. Favours. It’s Mandalorian culture and he respects that. The honour of it all. Even if most of them are self indulgences.

When he returns, he had expected a chatter of giggles from you and the baby, a possible game of hide and seek that ended up with you jumping at the green chin in order to spook him. But there’s none of that.

Not a single reminisce of his son’s presence, let alone you and that shattered his cold little heart as he thought of the worse. Did someone take both of you? Maker, was he already too late and they had sold both of you to the Guild already?

That couldn’t be.

He was barely even thinking that he had forgotten he had the comlink in his hand— gripped so tightly that with a few more seconds of his hold, it was sure to break.

Oh, right.

The comlink.

Maker, how stupid do you have to be to forget that he held the thing in his own hand. To be fair, it is a small little device. Yeah, yeah. Whatever.

At least he’s remembered that he’s got a way of communicating with you despite nearly forgetting about in his enraged sight.

“ _Mesh’la?_ ”

Oh, Maker hopes that you brought your comlink with you or he would tear this planet inside and out. With no doubt, that’s what he would do for you and his son.

And as he waits for a moment, every passing second sweat dribbles on the skin of his forehead underneath his beskar. Then he heard the click.

“ _Don’t_ call me that.”

Oh, thank the Stars. He almost let out a chuckle despite the tone of your voice and well despite everything else, he stills in his step with a smile present on his face.

“Send your location. I’ll come get you and the child.”

You’re quick to answer this time. “No.”

His smile fades away and a sigh replaces it. A sign of annoyance to your rebellion, he speaks again to the comlink. “Send me your coordinates or I’ll look for you myself.”

A moment pauses again and he almost growls at the thought of you turning off the comlink to ignore him. In all honesty, he wouldn’t blame you with the way he’s been acting. Though, his answer is valid, it’s not the idea of you leaving angers him it’s the idea of you or his son getting hurt in anyway that fuels some fire deep in his.

It’s worry. Concern. Care.

And the realization itself that he’s never had to care this much about someone other than his son. That itself scares him. And the fact that he lives a dangerous life doesn’t help with his concerning fears.

But thankfully he heard the click again and he heard your honey voice fall slick from your lips. In the fair distance, he can hear a slight splash.

“Fine. But don’t look.” He raises a brow at that request itself. “I- I’m sort of… _uh_ , _naked_ … in the water.”

He’s suddenly aware of your location.

The ship passed by a small lake over the course of landing. While you were too occupied sleeping in _your_ cot, no longer sharing his own, he was clearing the view for a space to land— catching the small body of water a mile or two away from the landing spot.

And now he’s here.

Well, you’re not.

He assumes your probably enjoying the lake with Grogu and dint bother to tell him just to piss him. Well, it’s working if that was your plan. It’s working damn well as he drops everything and storms out of the Crest, a stop in his foot as he starts making the trek.

It takes longer than he’s used. He thinks maybe it because suddenly, everything is pure silence; only the talking of bugs and branched slapping, and not the usual of your small talk or stories about your childhood or simple little fantasies. Whether or not you were talking to him or the child, he listened in anyways.

And now, it was pure silence. Dare he say it, he was bored out of his mind as he hit the half way point to the lake. He’s walked further than this, sure, but you were always by his side to guide him through the boredom’s.

He thanks the Maker when his vambrance alerts him that he’s a few meters away. But as he looks up, he sees that he’s closer than he realizes as he sees your bare backside.

He swallows as his eyes falls to the way your skin shines with the water drips on it. Almost as if following every droplet that rounds on the curve of your bottom, he swallows deep once again to calm the animal inside of him.

“I’m here.” He turns his gaze away as he hears the water splash, assuming that you turned in your spot in the water. Then he’s hearing a small coo— the child.

There some crunching of the dirt under your feet, it stops. A bit of rustle and he focus on the way the suns on this planet makes the sky bit more blue than the last one they’ve been in. The last was pink, purple. Beautiful and calming.

This…

_Tug._

He spins on the heels of his feet and finds the green little womp rat at the wedges of his boot. His inky black eyes, wide and glossy as he stares up at his father.

He picks the child up with ease, barely even bothering to bat an eye at you as he assumes you’re dressing. He realizes he doesn’t have to as you’re already leading yourself back to the Crest, his eyes situated on the way your hair; long and soaking wet sits untied against your back— clothed back.

The child whines in his arms, almost as if sensing his own father’s distraction and Din peers down. “I know, buddy.”

The journey back home is just as the same on the way to the lake. Only then, occasionally, the child would wiggle in Din’s arm as he cooed sadly— almost as if telling he knew the frustration and sadness that surrounded his mother and father.

The Mandalorian shook his head and followed close to your steps, his eyes nothing but situated on the way your hips moved and your legs… limped?

He raised a brow to himself as he took notice of your walk. A little funny but nothing out of the ordinary if he hadn’t been paying close attention. Just that little limp, it’s so small, but it’s there and it’s making yoir hair away along with your walk.

“What’s wrong with your leg?” His voice booms loud through the silence of the forest and he knows you can hear him loud and clear despite the distance. Yet, you don’t bother stopping or batting an ear.

It’s only then when he calls you again that he gets an answer, one out of pure anger. “Sweet girl—”

“I said _don’t fucking_ call me that.” He watches as you turn, your brows furrowed with your hands curled into fists— angry.

But he’s not taking any shit, not when his concern wins over his frustration. “Then what’s wrong with your leg?”

“It’s none of your business.” You told him, your eyes holding the most anger he’s ever seen in such a kind creature. “Stop asking questions like you care, _Mando._ You made it clear that you don’t and you don’t have to pretend anymore.”

He pauses beneath his helmet and his eyes are wide as he stares at you and your words. Don’t care? He’s always cared and that was the problem. He cared too much and he knew feelings in his line of work would never work out. Someone was bound to get hurt in the end.

Either way, he couldn’t let that happen to you now. Even if it would hurt you or himself along the way.

But his emotions are bigger than he’s estimated and he’s blurting out words fasterthan light itself. His eyes, brows, scowled in frustration and pure pain as you turned without opening your mouth again.

The silence you radiate speaking louder than the words prior and Din just stands there, breathless as you near the Crest, your body disappearing in to the body of the ship, leaving his poor old soul broken out in the open. The only thing bringing him out is a whine from his green little son that made his head turn in concern.

He doesn’t even answer his own son, only with a shrug as he follows along inside the ship to see how empty it is as you’ve already retreated back to your cot. The Mandalorian sighs as he takes a seat on one of the boxes he ships, his back pressed against a cold wall as he huffed.

Occasionally, only then, would he pay attention as the child would run down the hull and back up— giggles of his own cheering up whatever it could of his father.

But it isn’t enough. Sadly, as the man dragged himself like some old bounty who refused to cooperate, he takes himself to his own room, deciding that perhaps after such a long day at the market and with you and Grogu at the lake, it’s only reasonable to take rest.

While you? With eyes red and swollen, you cry softly in tje comfort of your tear soaked pillow as yoir curled into yourself.

Stupid Mandalorian.

How dare he pretend he didn’t just use you.

How dare he pretend to care when all he’s done is hurt you.

You wished you could say you hated him. You really did. You wanted to slap the man in beskar. Swear and yell at him as he deserved it. But with every turn you took and was face to face with him, all you could think of was those lucious locks and pouty lips he had used to kiss you. To whisper soft nothings in Mando’a. To moan your name as he stilled in you.

And that was all you could see. All you could think of when you saw the way his beskar shined under the sun’s glow. You hated how it made you feel, how he made you feel, but regardless, you could never hate him.

Not with everything that has happened.

After nearly seven months now, so much has happened that you could barely go a day without ans that itself scared you the most— not the idea of not being able to fight the way he does, but the idea of him leaving you.

Maybe that’s what he wanted to do. Maybe this is just the moments befofe rhe Crest’s engines start and in a few hours, he would open your cot and tell you that he’s here to drop you off.

Even then, maybe you wouldn’t blame him. You’d be angry, heartbroken, but somehow, just after everything, you would still give this man in beskar your whole heart. Your whole world, your mind, body and soul.

And it’s embarrassing, humiliating. To be so attached to one who barely carries the same capacity of love that you do. Yet, you are and with every passing moment you spend alone sobbing in your cot, the ache of your heart overcoming the one in your leg, he races through your thoughts again.

Should he be resting? Yeah, sure, but again, the man in beskar does anything but that when thoughts invade his mind.

His son reminds him of the reality he’s faced in when he cries out when he trips on his robe and lands face first. The Mandalorian rushes over to the green little goblin with concern painted beneath his beskar while a hand soothes him down with a caress to his floppy ear.

He expects him to calm down, to coo happily in response so Din can return to the repairs on the ship. With the carbon scoring and other… well, destroyed and scrapped parts of the ship, he expects it to last him a few hours that’ll hopefully blend in to the day as to distract him.

But Grogu isn’t calming down. Instead, he whines with a frown as his ears drop down in what the Mandalorian could only understand as sadness or unease. He’s unsure of what to do, it’s ok the very rare occasion the child acts like this— only in times where he feigns a pout to manipulate his father or mother for extra rations of his food.

And so he raises concern to what must’ve set his son emotions into play. Perhaps he drank some of the lake water and got sick? Din drew an ungloved hand towards the child’s forehead— nothing.

He rocks the baby in his arms with a frown lining his face. “What’s wrong, kid?” The child whined in returned and raised his three clawed hand in motion, almost seeming as if there were something calling to him, he whined again in distress and it caugh Din’s attention.

The Crest.

The Mandalorian wondered what would the child want in the ship, only then it dawned on him after a few longing moments.

His mother.

You.

He turned back to the child, an understand complete between them, yet Din just needed a confirmation to assure his doubts. “You want mumma?” As the child cooed in response, he made the small trek up the ramp with a grunt. His efforts soon to be diminished, owning the anger you were in after what he had done.

Though, as he entered the hull, the only thing there present was you hunched over your own leg; the king locks of your hair framing your face as it nearly touched the ground and he almost smiled to himself as he saw a glimpse of you.

With the sudden noise of everything, your attention was caught with a gasp, your eyes wide as you found Din standing mere inches away from you with Grogu in his hand. You raised your brows at the child when his ears turned back up in response, and though, despite his father’s presence, you smile at the child.

“You never told me you were bleeding.” His voice, so uncharacteristically soft and gentle it almost takes you by surprise. It reminds you of the nights you’ve spent under the sheets tangled, you frown.

His visor, black and prominent in your line of view when you gaze up at him. Still, no words are spoken under his gaze and you know it rightfully frustrates him as it did you when he had done it but this was your moment— he didn’t want to talk? Fine by you. But now, he has no right pretending to care right after he was the one who pulled away.

You weren’t even sure when the tears came with your thoughts but as you sticking on the bacta gel on the sore wound of yours on your leg, a hiss fell like a curse and within seconds your Mandalorian was kneeling in front of you. With a hand on your knee and the other on your leg, his movements are careful as he attempts to smear the medicine.

You pulled away before he can do that.

You’re sure your actions caused a frown to like his lips as you caught the way his shoulders sagged. “Just let me help you.” He tells you, his voice, usually so monotone, carried the most emotion you’ve heard.

You bit your lip as you decided. You could do this yourself. If nothing, your mother taught you everything you needed to know for first aid. You didn’t need the man’s help, not that you needed him in the first place. So as you shook your head and reached out for the tube of gel in his hand, the Mandalorian pulled his arm out of your reach.

“Give me the gel.”

“No, talk to me.”

You scoffed at that demand itself. Really? Talk to you? When all hes ever done in the past week was the opposite of that. And yet now he wanted to talk?

You shook your head at his words and pulled away, the pain in your leg much worse than before, yet that didn’t stop you from attempting to stand. You wanted out of here. Like a mudjumper stuck in a box, you felt suffocated—lost.

You tried to walk, get around the large man in beskar but instead, your robe caught on your leg and you fell straight down. If it wasn’t for Din’s presence, your probably would’ve fell face first.

And suddenly you were back in his arms for a whole different reason. Your eyes swells up with unwarranted tears that you bit your lip to suppress but as the moment he opened his mouth and said: “Please, j - just… Just talk to me, cyar’ika.” A sob broke down your throat.

He held you despite that.

He kept you up as you shoved your wet face in the palm of your hands as he held you close to his chest, the beskar cold to your warm body but that didn’t stop you. Just like that, he heard every cry, every whimper that left your trembling mouth and knowing that he caused that hurt him even more.

And when the hull is nothing but silence, the sound of soft humming from the engines, Din lets you pull away, even if in the slightest as you claw at your eyes. Red and swollen, you look up at him with a pout that lined your bitten lips.

“You told me to stay and I did.” Your gaze fell and another sob bubbled in your throat. “But you didn’t.”

You felt the gloveless hand of the man in front of you touch your tear stained cheeks, a warm palm cups your face and suddenly comfort fills your body.

Your gaze reaches up as he draws your head, the visor of his helmet stares back but somewhere beneath that, you know there’s his eyes— perhaps warm, honey brown, or maybe they’re cold and blue.

Your heart smiles at the entertaining idea, only falling when you realize that you may never know.

“I’m staying.” He pulls you out of your drowning thoughts. “Always, my sweet girl. I will always be here for you and our son. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

You wish you could say that you believe him yet theres still that lingering ache of doubt in your chest. Din can tell with the way your eyes are glazed with tears. “I’ve been a stupid man, cyare. I love you and that’s all I’ve ever been. But that’s scares me.”

Your lips pout. “Loving me scares you?”

Beneath the beskar, you wondered the look he had. But to Din, his eyes were wide in fear and shock with what he had said. As he shook his head and pulled your face closer, he spoke with true sincerity. “No, never, sweet thing.”

He took a moment to calculate his words. Just enough that he doesn’t fuck this up again. “My way of living isn’t suited for such a kind creature like you. I’m sorry that I can’t give you more than the Crest and a nomadic life. That itself ruins the thought of giving you the good life you deserve.”

And as tears swelled your eyes, you shook your head in return and fingers wrapped around his wrist, a poor effort to pull him close to you.

Din frowned at the sight of your saddened eyes, he wished he could kiss them away. Bring you the happiness you deserve, even then, he believes that he isn’t of worth to give you that himself.

“I’m an adult, Din.” His heart ached at the sound of his name falling like he sing from lips. It had been such a long week without your voice. “I knew what I was getting into when I said yes. I know what I want when I’m with you. Beskar and all. I’m just… I don’t know. You’re a very confusing man to begin with.”

He chuckles at that and a smile plays behind the helmet as he cups your cheek. “One thing you’re… uh, doing stuff with me. Then another, you’re angry. I’m just very much confused.”

“I know.” He sighed hard and you frowned. You didn’t expect him to be fixed within a day. You knew that and you knew he was still new to whatever this was between you and him. You just wanted something to be explained. Something to hold on as of why he did why he did.

“It’s just… I’m not good with this. Whatever we have, it’s different and it’s nothing I’m used to it. I get possessive because for once, you’re a constant in my life. You and Grogu and the idea of losing the both of you… It’s not something I can phantom.”

You whimpered as you attempted to take a step towards him. Instead, the pain from your leg just brought you back in to reality and you hissed.

Din didn’t fail to notice and was immediate to your relief. He sat you down on your cot, large hands wrapped around your thigh as he rubbed the bacta gel on you. As he peered up, you simply smiled as you reached for the side of his helmet.

“I will never leave you, Din.” You sighed in relief at the confession and comfort. “My love is just as stubborn as you are. I’ll be always here to stay.”

There was something about the Mandalorian. Despite his stubbornness and despite your ever lasting love, oh how cliche it must’ve sounded. You, damsel in distress falling for big bad Mandalorian, it sounded like a fairy tale sure.

But despite that, there was that reassurance in you that knew that everything that goes agaisnt your nature, your beliefs, everything that felt wrong in the world didn’t matter. Din was here. That was the constant in your life and that mattered and that made you feel mattered.

A life with him surely wont be easy, he’s a hunter bounteous hunter after all, but like you said, you’re here to stay just as much as his love for you is. A stubborn little thing he is, but at least you’re with family.

**Author's Note:**

> I am thinking of a smutty part two to this. Does anyone else want one?


End file.
